The Desrouleaux Evolution
Hey, you know who’s pretty popular right now? Jason Derülo. Yeah, the guy with the completely unnecessary dieresis is ranked #225 on a website I can’t remember the name of because I happened to be on incognito while researching this. Seems legit. Anyway, I doubt you’ve recently thought of Jason – whose name should really be spelled Jayson considering how black culture spells everything weirdly – which is your mistake. I forgive you.
One of the things that makes him the stuff of legend is how he seems to have a perpetually smug look etched on his face – not unlike Bane, although the poor dude doesn’t particularly have a choice. Especially when there are girls attempting to seductively do decidedly non-seductive things – like presumably shake fleas off their rump akin to a dog (I think the masses call it twerking) – which apparently happens every five seconds when you happen to be Mr. Derulo. Wouldn’t you have a smug look if that was what your life was like? You know, not having to care about the identity of all those disembodied body parts gyrating around you?
The thing is, he’s autotuned and falsetto’d through far too many songs to even be considered talented. He’s In his words, “songwriting is a muscle,” which not only demonstrates a lack of physiological understanding but also accounts for a possible explanation for his shitty lyricism. He could have drawn inspiration from a guy like Kanye West, but even his ear-piercing emotional swells – which sound like Davy Jones fell asleep on his organ – couldn’t wake the famously calm rapper through a ten-hour flight. We can trace his psychological downfall to that specific moment, noting that one of his more recent lyrics, where he asked “is it weird that your ass reminds me of a Kanye West song” (I actually looked it up, none of his songs have the word ‘ass’ in the title. The closest is Niggas in Paris, which has ‘gas’ instead. Not that close, I guess).
From there, he started carving intricate designs into his head like he was the centerpiece of a strange Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. storyline, stopped pronouncing words like ‘vertigo’ correctly altogether (which sounds like something out of Lindsay Lohan’s musical career. Did you even know Lohan made music?), and effectively refused to wear a shirt (a move which, in case you were wondering, got him more free service instead of less). And as of late, he’s even forgot to say his own name! He’s traded in his overly obnoxious-but-very-helpful-if-you-were-listening-to-one-of-his-songs-on-the-radio-and-wanted-to-know-who-it-was-by intro of JAISUN DÉROOLOW for a quick whisper of his last name; likely a sign that his vocal cords are starting to give out from that one time he sang for 57 minutes straight.
In the famous words of the out-of-place Asian schoolgirl who really likes to Talk Dirty:
What? I don’t understand…